


Sun Showers

by WhoopsOK



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Gods, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Sex Pollen, Worship, i think???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 09:39:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK
Summary: “Mad with it, are you?” Loki says, turning to face him completely, stepping back. “First touch of new power and you can’t control yourself?”“I have controlled myself for many years in regards to this,” Thor confesses much more lightly than the words should really warrant. “I find it no more difficult today than any other before it.”(Thor is a god of thunder. Loki is present when he realizes he is a god of fertility, too.)





	Sun Showers

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 7: Aphrodisiacs, Incest (Sorta?), and Praise Kink (maybe???)
> 
> Does this count as praise-kink? I don’t think it does…hm. If you think the tag should be added, feel free to say! Say whatever you’d like, actually, I’d love to hear from you!

It just makes Thor even more endlessly sweet, which should make saying no easier than it is. Loki has never been one for sweetness.

Still, there’s something to be said for Thor, in all his brash, shining glory, suddenly glowing with something gentler, kinder. A muted but steady light—like the sun diffused through rain clouds—that Thor nearly doesn’t seem to know what to do with. Thunder and lightning, the crashing and loud, the strong and obvious come so easily under Thor’s control, it’s odd to see him in the throes of something he isn’t inherently a master of.

Actually, that might be a bit unfair.

Be it far from Loki to admit aloud, but there is a charm to Thor that has always made it as easy for him to win lovers as it is for him to win friends. There is no shortage of people who would throw themselves at the chance to be with Thor, especially _now_.

It’s just the first time Loki has seen it so overtly, likely the first time Thor has _experienced_ it so overtly. It was never something named, but now it is tagged on. They have always prayed “ _God of Storms, protect me, give me strength_ ”, but his followers will learn quickly to whisper “ _God of Fertility, hallow my womb_ ” as well.

Loki looks down at his brother, watches flowers spring from between his fingers as he grips the dirt, flush and laughing as his powers settle into him, a faint drizzle plastering his hair to his skin.

All the while, Thor is looking up at Loki like a _fool_ , one hand trailing gently over the flowers he’s grown. The pollen dusts his fingers, some having managed to streak his face, and rises into the air for him to inhale happily. “And my brother stands most beautiful among them…”

Loki takes a step back, eyeing this warily. “Your flattery is not nearly as charming as you think.”

That seems to sadden and baffle Thor, the edges of his smile going soft. “It is not flattery. You are most deserving of praise, beloved.”

“Enough, Thor,” Loki says a bit more harshly than intended. It has been many years since anyone has called him beloved with that level of stark honesty and it’s unsettling. He looks up at the castle on the horizon; they could easily make it before sun down. He starts walking, “I’m sure _Father_ would love to throw a feast in your honor. All the bedfellows you could ever desire.”

“I need not a feast to find the bedfellow I desire.”

Loki starts to laugh at that, because, no, of course Thor doesn’t, but something about his tone snags on Loki’s awareness, makes him stop. Wistful is not a way Loki would often describe Thor’s voice, but Loki is very rarely wrong in judging his brother. The look on his face is open with loving desire and all directed at Loki which—

“Mad with it, are you?” Loki says, turning to face him completely, stepping back. “First touch of new power and you can’t control yourself?”

“I have controlled myself for many years in regards to this,” Thor confesses much more lightly than the words should really warrant. “I find it no more difficult today than any other before it.”

“Yet you didn’t hold your tongue,” Loki points out.

Shrugging shamelessly, Thor turns his face up to the sky, squinting at the sun. “It feels like a day for miracles, does it not?”

Loki feels his lip curling on instinct. “ _Miracles_?”

Thor hums his assent. “That I might have you. That you’d welcome me and I’d be allowed to worship you as would be fitting.”

The anxious flare of warmth that stirs in Loki’s chest startles him, but he keeps it off his face. “I have not asked for your worship,” he replies coolly.

“And yet I freely offer all you could take,” Thor says and Loki looks at the earnestness in his face and thinks he couldn’t take much at all. It must show in his expression. “Send me away and I’ll say nothing more.”

And Loki knows something has to be different between them—with the confession, yes, but with their tentatively reestablished goodwill, too—because the cold shutdown, the scathing comment he might otherwise expect of himself is slow to come, doesn’t feel natural when he thinks of it. Loki would want to walk away only on the principle of denying Thor something he has asked for so brazenly, not because Loki doesn’t want it.

It isn’t _rare_ that Loki wants things, but he’s tried to convince himself for years that he doesn’t want anything from Thor other than a space out of his shadow. There isn’t a point where he recalls thinking it was feasible to just…stand in Thor’s light.

Now, he hasn’t answered quickly enough and Thor is looking at him carefully, an expression that almost flickers between contrite and hopeful. And Loki doesn’t want to send him away, but taking him, allowing _himself_ to be taken, feels like a gross indulgence, the likes of which even he has never previously allowed himself.

Loki swallows. “Brother…” he begins.

“Yes?” Thor answers easily, undeterred.

“If I don’t send you away,” Loki says carefully, tries to sound neutral about it, but Thor’s expression is already brightening. “You’ll talk my ears off, won’t you?”

Thor laughs heartily, eyes shining with mirth. “I do have much to say,” he allows. “Years of holding my tongue, beloved, you could never understand the depth I feel for you.” He holds out a hand when Loki’s face twists in disbelief, “There is no flattery, only truth.”

“Any bedfellow you desire…” Loki says again, nodding back towards the palace. He doesn’t move towards it, doesn’t look away from Thor’s face or the pollen on his fingertips.

Thor shakes his head. “I’d turn them all down should you tell me I had the chance with you.”

After years of chasing Thor’s back only to scorn him when he turns around, the two slow, small steps Loki takes to place his hand in his brother’s feel…final. Not fatally, just in a way that makes is soul sigh, relaxing into a place it was always meant to find eventually. Thor’s hand is warm and strong around his, even if he is gentle with his grasp.

“I am not sure you’ll find I can offer anything you’d care for,” Loki says, but takes another stumbling step forward when Thor pulls him. His body goes warm when Thor brings his fingers to his lips.

“I care for all of you,” Thor says against his knuckles before turning Loki’s hand to reverently kiss his palm. “You have such clever hands, beloved, it is a privilege to be granted them.”

Loki shudders at the brush of Thor’s lips over his skin. “I’ll want them back,” he warns and Thor’s breath is warm over his hand when he chuckles.

“Let me keep them a while,” Thor says and kisses up to Loki’s wrist. When he can’t reach any further, he pulls Loki down towards him, obviously delighted when he goes to his knees between Thor’s outstretched legs.

Such barefaced joy is a difficult thing for Loki to look at headlong, so he leans forward until Thor catches him. Partly out of curiosity, he licks the stripe of pollen off Thor’s cheek, the cloying sweetness of it making his mouth water. He’s not sure if it’s that or the way he’s pressed against Thor that makes his body flash hot, though. He’s suddenly sweating.

“Oh, dear,” Loki mumbles, licking him again, less hesitant.

“Silver tongue,” Thor whispers like a prayer and Loki shudders in his arms.

“Mind _your_ tongue, I am not a god for prayers.”

“Mind it for me, brother,” Thor challenges and Loki, just this once, will not make him ask again.

Kissing Thor makes Loki’s hair stand on end like the moment before lightning strikes, but endless, never finally cracking, only getting worse as Thor’s stubble scrapes his face, as his tongue strokes Loki’s. Loki finds himself swaying against Thor until his brother shifts, rolls them until Loki is on his back in the damp grass. It should likely be cold, but Loki finds himself shivering more with the settling of Thor’s weight over him. He is embarrassed by the little grunting sound he lets out when Thor kisses up the column of his throat, one hand skillfully unbinding the front of his tunic. Loki doesn’t know if the sparks he feels down his chest are intentional traits of Thor’s foreplay, or if he genuinely can’t help it, so lost in the touch of Loki’s skin. Either way, Loki jerks with it, running his hands up into Thor’s hair as he kisses him again. Quickly, so much quickly than normal, Loki finds himself leaking into his pants, horrendously turned on.

“Thor,” Loki says, “I think your flowers are…”

“Yes,” Thor agrees and when he sits up Loki can see the flush in his face has increased sharply, his pupils wide and dark. “Rather potent as well. Would you care to stop?”

The fact that Thor even has the presence of mind to ask is comforting, if mildly annoying with how close Loki feels to boiling over. He could force the feeling down, force it away. Thor’s magic is familiar enough for him to unwind, Loki is more than strong enough to break whatever’s gotten ahold of him.

Still, Loki takes a moment to cup Thor by his face, tries not to get distracted by his cheeks burning under his palms. “Beloved,” he says—perhaps a bit patronizingly, but not at all sarcastic—and it has the satisfying and emboldening effect of making Thor’s breath stumble. “I would care for another dose.”

Thor blinks at him dumbly, or at least Loki imagined that’s what he was doing until he raises his hand and Loki realizes he was crushing flowers in his fist.

“Take, brother,” Thor tells him, touching Loki’s lips with reverent fingers. When Loki lets his tongue brush against Thor’s fingertips, the sweetness in his mouth makes a gentle haze settle over everything that isn’t Thor, pushing the rest of the world gently out of focus. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, much less when Thor slides a finger into his mouth. “Would that you would let me bless you.”

Loki makes a rather undignified sound around Thor’s finger when Thor smooths a hand up his thigh to his crotch, freeing his arousal. Blessings are no small matter where Thor is concerned and Loki has never actually been offered one so directly, not since they when were children who didn’t know they weight they would carry. “ _Sentimental_ ,” he hisses when his mouth is free, hiding his face in Thor’s chest.

“Enamored,” Thor corrects gently and Loki can hear his smile.

“ _Foolish_ ,” Loki insists, only for Thor to gently push him back flat, looking down at him adoringly.

“Are you saying no, beloved?” he asks in a low voice that puts a storm of butterflies in Loki’s stomach, warmth coming off him in waves.

Loki thinks about the quiet thunder of Thor’s magic already thrumming in his veins, sweet and thick on his tongue, in the air around him. He feels it throbbing between his legs where Thor’s hips rest against his, hard and wanting, shifting just slightly. He thinks of having the warmth carried with him everywhere, _Thor’s Most Favored._ His brother’s hand stroking him nearly scatters his thoughts, doesn’t so much tie his tongue in a knot as leave it loose and heavy in his mouth.

“…No, I am not,” Loki admits shortly, because perhaps his brother _is_ contagious. There is no other reason Loki should feel the warmth in his brother’s eyes explode in his own chest.

Then Thor _does_ pray over him.

Whispering blessings against Loki’s lips, continuing them down the column of his throat, with his teeth around Loki’s nipple. Thor makes a lifetime of promises with his hands holding Loki down by the hips, the benediction of his mouth on Loki’s arousal.

“ _Thor,_ ” Loki gasps back, a fist full of his brother’s hair, tears prickling his eyes. His mouth drops open when Thor’s fingers slide behind his balls, stilling there.

Thor pulls off Loki’s cock long enough to gasp, “You’re wet…”

“Very,” Loki agrees shakily because, oh, what quaint little flowers Thor has bloomed. It’s taking all his self-control and Thor’s weight on his hip to keep him from shoving down onto his brother’s fingers. He swallows, brushing one hand through Thor’s hair, the other stroking the flowers beside him. “I’ll not ask you to control your tongue any longer.”

The smirk that earns him is one he’s never had sent in his direction, not from his brother certainly, but he feels it like warm water in his stomach.

Thor controls his tongue so very well, Loki winds up crying out his own oaths as he swells, spills into his brother’s mouth. Even so, nearly faint with orgasm, Loki can’t bear the thought of Thor being away from him, not yet. This moment exists so far from everything else they are, everything else they are expected to feel and be. Here, they are brothers in the rawest sense; there is only the two of them, as if there only ever has been, as if nothing else has been created yet.

Loki pulls at his brother, wants to lay in his shadow once more. He wants Thor’s unsteady breaths to turn into heaving pants, wants to hear groans and sighs of Loki’s name. He licks Thor’s jaw when he gets close enough, accepting his kiss gratefully. He wants to cover his own taste with Thor’s, to feel a fertility god lose control of himself on Loki’s tongue. “Let me—”

“No,” Thor says before Loki can even ask him. “If you are willing to take, dear brother, please allow me to give.”

In this moment, as close as they’ve ever been, Loki would grant Thor anything he cared to pray for; they both understand the power in that. Not of Loki over Thor, or vice versa, but of the two of them together. People tell such horrible stories about the things gods in love would do to stay together, but right now, it doesn’t feel like anything in all the nine realms could possibly separate them. Loki is no fool, does not presume himself invincible, but maybe… maybe this _thing_ between them, these feelings…

Loki _mewls_ into Thor’s mouth when Thor enters him, a long slide that doesn’t falter, doesn’t stop until they are flush together. Thor answers him with a groan, slides one hand up to lace their fingers together.

“My most treasured,” Thor tells him unsteadily. “My brother, god of my heart.”

No other name Loki has ever been called in all his many years has settled so easily, so fittingly over him. It should be a curse, Loki is a possessive god, but Thor knows this and has given himself willingly into his brother’s hands. “Thor,” he gasps back, looking Thor directly in his face, any inclination towards trickery lost in the face of his brother’s unflinching faith. It’s still a lot to look at head-on, so he pulls Thor down. He means to whisper in his ear, but gets distracted by the promise of his lips. Kissing him, it’s easier to shut his eyes, feeling foolish with desperation and desire at the words swelling up in his throat. It feels more honest than Loki is generally willing to allow himself to be. “My brother, god of fertility; claim your dominion,” he whispers between their lips, his legs tight around Thor’s rocking hips as he shudders around the length of his cock, gripping Thor’s hand in his. “Consecrate me with your seed.”

The request seems to hit Thor square in his chest, knocks him off his axis and away from whatever thin remnants he had of his control. Loki holds on for dear life and rides the waves of his brother’s ministrations, slowly winding tighter and tighter, reaching a fever pitch with his own arousal. Thor, even in the throes of his own lust and an unfamiliar power, is no slouch. Loki is nearly sobbing with pleasure by the time Thor’s power seems to lock in place inside him, Loki’s opening to take it, reaching _back_ and Thor is roaring out his pleasure. Their orgasms wrap together and hit at once, leaving them both with their ears ringing, eyes wide and unseeing as they cling to each other, the only grip on reality they can get ahold on.

With effort and labored breathing, Loki comes back to himself to find Thor—still hard inside him, resting heavily on his chest—laughing drunkenly against his neck between kisses.

It’s not an unkind sound, but Loki tugs his hair anyway. “Something funny?” he asks sharply, still zinging with pleasure.

“My love, you’ve given me an offspring,” Thor says and Loki has a moment of thinking he has truly, completely lost his mind, before he nods over Loki’s shoulder and Loki turns to look. Even he must admit—with a flat look that just makes Thor laugh harder—that there is something a little humorous about the little oak sapling sprouting up behind them, marking the spot of their bond.

Far be it from Loki to claim himself a psychic, but he can say with confidence that this will not be the last of their couplings this tree oversees.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading…even your most honking, wheezy, awkward laugh makes flowers grow in someone’s heart
> 
> Hm… is this OOC? Probably, but hmmmm, I enjoyed it! I hope you did, too!
> 
> Also, the line “People tell such horrible stories about the things gods in love would do to stay together” was inspired by asofterworld: [ I want people to tell their children terrifying stories about the things we did for love.](http://asofterworld.com/index.php?id=642)


End file.
